On The Edge
by Philis
Summary: This is a story about Logan Thackeray and a certain Ascalonian Captain. It's also M/M.
1. Prologue

A single red leaf danced in front of Logan Thackeray' nose. He was standing on the innermost wall to the courtyard of Ascalon City. In the middle of the yard, were the remains of an irrecognizeably broken ornament, surrounded by red ash trees. The heat and the scent of battle had long gone from the courtyard, leaving Logan alone in a deafening silence as he observed how a ghostly shower of burnt leaves rained down onto the square.

At the foot of the broken statue that Logan knew had been dedicated to Dwayna, the goddess of life and air, was a man. The Ascalonian Captain was wearing a red armor, and a likewise blood-coloured helmet. His body broken as the ornament he rested upon. It was a crucial moment, minutes before King Adelbern would release the destructive force of the foefire onto the grounds of Ascalon.

Logan deserted the wall and moved down to the body. He was not allowed to interfere and he had not. The man had died without his assistance, twice. He was a fierce fighter, until the end. Broken, blood covered fingers were still wrapped around his blade.

The guardian gritt his teeth at the stench of iron that stung into his nose as he approached the body. Deep gashes on his legs revealed a view at splinters of bone where the blades had cut right through his armor and severed his muscles. Blood covered the man's legguards. They must have hit an artery.

The Ascalonian had fought fiercely at the face of his own death. He must have known what was coming, must have been in insufferable, horrific pain before the lights had gone out. The man's fingers spread in curious angles as Logan placed them upon his chest. He tried to remove the helmet but it was deformed and clung to the Ascalonian's head without mercy.

Despite the injuries, the Ascalonian had single-handedly held off the invasion of the enemy forces and suffered terrible pain in exchange. Silently, Logan stooped down beside the broken body and loosened the man's fingers from his sword. There was no need for it where its master had gone. The silence became more pressing. Where were the Charr? Had they deserted their post after the courtyard had fallen?

As his gaze drifted toward the open flesh and the splintered bone that must have once been a part of the Ascalonian's knee, he closed his eyes. With intense fury and rage, that must have sprung from desperation, he had slashed his way through the horde of beasts. With ease, his sword had cut into the flesh of the enemy, and they had fallen around him like matchsticks.

„Captain Thackeray, are you ready for extraction?" asked a child-like, high pitched voice.

Logan rose onto his feet. There was barely time for a last look on the body at his feet before he felt his body dissolve.

„Are you quite alright, Captain?" the voice spoke again.

„I think so." Logan replied, finding his voice unnaturally coarse. The surroundings had changed, the courtyard had gone, as had the broken body. Instead, Logan was inside the mist observatorium that floated in the air like an island.

„Then why are you crying?" a rat-like creature had moved around from behind a console.

Logan raised a hand to his eyes. They were wet and his raw fingers seemed to soak up the liquid as he rubbed them. He had not even noticed.


	2. Chapter 1

Logan observed from the distance. Like a shadow in the sunlight he was barely there but adapted himself to what was happening around him. Asuran technology had made it possible for him to be here, standing beside the Ascalonian knights of hundred and fifty years ago.

It was almost high time.

None of the knights in the room knew about their realms impending doom. Neither of his companions knew that it would be their admired king who would eventually unleash the ancient, destructive force of the foefire and effectively bind them everlastingly to these grounds.

But Logan could do nothing to warn them. It was not why he had come here, not why he was inches away from the mad king who sat there stoically, waiting for the return of his son. It was his first rule while working in the mists, to never meddle with the past. Those were events he could not control, events that he could not prevent.

Footsteps emerged from the other side of the vast room. A young man walked toward the three narrow steps that led to the throne, in front of which he stopped reverently. His armor was entirely in deep red, and a helmet covered most of his face. For a split second, Logan meant to see a flash of blue as the man's eyes glanced over to the royal guard.

In awe, the Ascalonian bent his knees and knelt down in front of King Adelbern. It took Logan mere seconds to realize that he knew this man, had seen him before. A murmur ran through the rows of soldiers, but it was soon broken by the majesticly deep voice of their leader.

„Captain Ashym." said the old King softly.

As the man's name was spoken, Logan could not repress a shower running down his spine. He had heard it before, the wardens and guards spoke about their fearless Captain. He could remove a man's head in less time than it took the blink of an eye.

Logan shuffled to one side to get a better view on this Captain Ashym who was often described as one of the most talented and skilled knights of the Ascalonian guard. Beside him, one of the soldiers groaned impatiently and Logan immediately stopped shifting his feet but craned his neck toward the scene.

„My king." the Captain still knelt on the ground, unmoving. Although his tone was calm and serious, Logan did not miss the impatience, the strength and the youth in Ashym's voice. There was a wild fire in the way he spoke that was so reminiscent of himself. Before Destiny's Edge, before the betrayal.

„Why do you not do us the honor to take off your helmet, Captain?" the King urged gently, gesturing for the man to rise.

Ashym kept his view fixed on the ground, pausing before he rose to his full height and two gloved hands moved upward. The red helmet was lifted to reveal strands of fierce, bright red that fell down and framed his face as if flames. Mesmerized, Logan watched as his deep blue eyes met the King's with awe.

Despite the devotion and admiration in Ashym's features, Logan did not miss the twitching of the man's fingers toward the sword that hung loosely only his belt, as if he was about to run outside and right back into battle.

„The Charr have retreated as far as the hillside." Captain Ashym hesitated, „We have... yet... been unable to pinpoint the location where Prince Rurik has last been seen."

Immediately, the gentle glow vanished from Adelbern's eyes, the smile froze and his eyes became fierce and cold. Logan felt the guards around him shudder and some pitiful glances flit over toward where Captain Ashym was standing before they retracted back to the ground. What he had learned early in his life, Logan had been able to observe first hand in the past weeks.

When the King's only son, Prince Rurik, had disappeared, the King had grown more and more mindless, forgetting himself. He locked himself in his chambers, unwilling to speak to anyone but himself. This would go on for weeks on end, while the invasion of Ascalon was at its fullest.

„Unacceptable." the King hissed, „How can not anyone of you know where my son has gone to?" at the last words he jolted upward and shouted into the hall. His face was distorted with anger, pain and fear. It would not be long now until insanity fully took over.

Swallowing, Logan wondered if Ashym, who had twitched but not dared to step backward, would defend himself from a man he had sworn to protect. And if not, would he himself be able to stand back and let things happen, like he was supposed to? Captain Ashym could not be more than twenty years of age, which was nearly half as long as Logan himself had lived.

He reminded himself that it was not his purpose here to defeat the Charr or defend the Knights from their own, mad king. Coming back here, he had never intended to become a hero, to save millions of Ascalonians and their home from the fall. He had merely hoped to maybe catch a glimpse of his grandparents, although he knew fully well that both of them were young soldiers stationed in Ebonhawke.

Even if it had been possible to see Gwen and Keiran, to warn them, Dessa had warned him of exactly that. Do not meddle with the past. She was only a scientist, not a God, she had stated with a hint of regret in her voice. She could not change the past and neither could he. Over and over she had repeated that meddling with the past and things that were long gone could be dangerous. People could die, worlds could collapse and she could not control any of it.

Logan almost regretted asking her to send him back into this fractal of the past, hidden in the mists. He wondered if it had been an error, a mistake because it put him at his weakest. Logan was invincible here because Dessa watched over him. He was merely an observer, watching events happen, trying to find out where the remains of Adelbern's sword had been scattered. He had to watch people die, could not help them or he would have destroyed the future. He let things happens, and Rytlock would have laughed at him for it.

Most of the conversation between the Captain and the King had been lost, but as he looked up again, Ashym was walking back toward the entrance. One arm was curled around his helmet, the other elbow resting on the hilt of his sword.

„It's not the right one." Dessa's voice echoed loudly in his head, but as he looked around, none of the other men and women seemed to notice. „It's before the foefire, way before."

„I agree." he said silently, watching as Captain Ashym's determined steps toward the gate. Even as the last bright red strands bounced in the mess on top of his head, Logan felt the familiar tugging of the extraction. It made him invisible to the men and women in the room, erasing their memory of him in an instant. The red knight in front of him faded, disappearing slowly as he was pulled upward and felt his body come undone.

For the first time after extraction he landed on both of his feet, the change of light momentarily forcing him to close his eyes. When he reopened them, his view immediately fell upoin the Asura standing in front of him with her arms crossed.

„If you're tired we can continue another time." the tone suggested that she would understand this. After all, he was a human and not an Asura.

„I'm not." he replied quickly.

Dessa's arms unfolded as if she was content with the answer, „Let us nonetheless take a short break. I will investigate into an inexplicable heartbeat intensity increase which you experienced in the throne room. Either my readings are wrong or..."

She trailed off, muttering under her breath as she walked toward a toy-sized console. Dessa was a genius, yet often looked down upon by her own kind because of her work with the mists. To many Asura, it was illogical why she would occupy herself with the past and research into history instead of something immediately beneficial for her own race.


	3. Chapter 2

I have to say, I really like this story somehow. I appreciate readers opinions!

Phil

Logan watched him train. He was wiry, slender, his almost delicate built made him appear even younger than he was. At times it seemed the sword was almost too heavy for its master to lift, but Ashym showed no signs of exhaustment. His lower lip between his teeth, the Captain slashed and cut away at imaginary enemies.

The air was pressingly thick and moist, heavy with the scent of burning flame, although they were outside. The moon had long risen above their heads, but Captain Ashym was restless. Determination and fury seemed to be his fuel.

The man knew no limits, unable to stand still he continuously stabbed and thrust at the used up air. Despite it, Logan's sharp eye did not miss the moments in which Ashym's eyes closed rapidly and he straightened his shoulders as if an attempt to shake off the exhaustment.

The Captain's fire-magic illuminated the statue of Dwayna and the surroundings in bright, light colours as the summoned flame danced along the edges of the blade. Logan watched his hand twitch slightly, fire exploding in all directions and immediately vanishing. Irritatedly, the man paused in his exercise and lowered his sword, staring down at its darkened edges where the fire had hungrily licked away at the blade.

Ashym's chest was heaving and he closed his eyes as he raised his hand with the blade again, balancing it in his hand. Logan's eyes narrowed at his hands where despite the darkness he could make out bruises and scratches that no doubt were marks of the man's almost fanatic need to test and stretch his limits.

Logan's eyebrows furrowed as fresh flame burst from Ashym's body and he swayed slightly on the spot.

„Do you not think that sometimes a knight has to rest, Captain Ashym?" Logan approached silently. Ashym froze on the spot and slowly turned around. Drops of sweat covered his temples, his eyes were unfocused and hazy. Logan recognized the signs of exhaustment from the hours he spent training new recruits to the Seraph.

„I will rest once I am dead." Ashym straightened his shoulders yet again and narrowed his eyes at the approaching guardian. Logan cringed at the careless words that he knew would come true in such short time.

A seriousness that was beyond his years was evident in the Captain's tone and expression as he spoke. It must have been the war that made him age more quickly than was healthy. Silently Logan dropped at the foot of Dwayna's ornament and watched the Captain proceeded. The young man's intense concentration was almost tangible.

Fascination rendered Logan unable to tear his eyes from the Captain's will and determination. Suddenly he understood the respect- and fearful glances that grazed the Captain wherever he went. The Fury and Strength evident in his movement would have intimidated Logan himself, had he not been a head taller than the man and faced an elder dragon before.

„There is a time to fight, Captain, and a time to recover your strength." Logan said calmly. It should not have been any of his concern if Ashym pushed himself, but the young man was highly reminiscent of the many young Seraph he had trained. Painfully so, in the way he stretched his limits to protect his home.

Ashym paused to wipe drops of sweat from his forehead.

„There is no rest for Ascalon." he grazed Logan with a disapproving look, „The enemy does not rest."

Logan found himself face to face with the pointy end of Ashym's blade. The Captain's lips had curved into a challenging smile. At Logan's questioning look, a hint of hidden excitement flit over his face and he jerked his head toward the greatsword on Logan's belt.

„Draw your weapon, Ascalonian." he demanded, „We shall all rest when this battle is won."

Do not meddle with the past, said a tiny voice inside of Logan's head but he ignored it. Often, the most promising and stubborn Seraph soldiers challenged him to fights to test their strengths. He used those occassions not only to refresh his authority, but just as much to show them their limits and in a way force them to rest.

Slowly, Logan rose from the foot of the ornament and draw his blade. Without warning or mercy, Ashym's blade slashed through the air and at his head. The man had attacked so quickly that it almost knocked Logan off balance. With great effort, he pulled his sword upward to reflect the vicious hit. With near to inhuman force, Ashym's blade crashed onto his yet again and Logan pulled one foot back to stabilize his stand.

„This is not how we normally start." Logan quickly recovered from the initial irritation about the sudden assault. Prepared, Ashym's blade was easier to halt.

„Did you expect me to count?" Ashym asked and Logan did not miss the hint of a sneer that appeared on his face.

„Yes."

„Do you expect... the enemy to count?" the Captain prompted. The tone was taunting, almost daring Logan's senses. A storm seemed to rage behind his eyes, the colour of the ocean disturbed by fierce currents. The tactic to infuriate him might have worked, had he not been using it for years himself.

Angrily, Ashym's sword hailed down onto Logan's as torrential rain. As the fight went on, Ashym's fury seemed to ebb down, as if he had poured all of his energy in the first few hits. More often than not, Ashym's blade slid off Logan's shield easily.

Logan knew he had the advantage in the fight, his training as a guardian had payed off. Instead of attacking, he had laid his faith in stamina and defensive strategy. Dodging and waiting for Ashym's strength to fade, he knew that the young Captain would be easier to defeat.

Had he been a Seraph, Logan would have no doubt acted on this impulse, but he had no desire to damage the pride and faith that Ashym so evidently put in his swordsmanship. It hardly mattered, because unlike the Seraph, the young Captain was not his responsibility and more importantly, he would not live long enough to alter his techniques.

Fire burst from Ashym's blade and body and for a split moment, the man's eyes widened. Fire hurried toward Logan, the raw force of an Inferno washed over him time and time again without shape or control. It was repelled by his shield.

The fierce hits had came to a halt and a look into the Captain's face confirmed Logan's guess that he was incapable to entirely control his magic. As their eyes met, Ashym's eyebrows furrowed angrily. A shade of fiery red creeped into his cheeks.

„You are quite a fighter." the Captain commented. Before Logan could reply, he had lowered his blade and turned his back to him.

Increduously, Logan stared at the man's back. Had he just simply decided to desert the duel, laid down his arms and turned his back on the enemy? Despite his better judgment and the tiny voice in his head, which suspiciously sounded like Dessa, not to meddle with the past, Logan acted.

„Will you do that on the battlefield?" in a split second he had silently moved behind Ashym. With a forceful push, he had the man pressed against the marble statue of Dwayna. Carefully, he rose the cold steel of his sword to the man's neck, applying pressure but not breaking the skin.

Ashym jerked violently before he immediately froze in place. At the closeness, their bodies touched and Ashym's muscles tensed. The rusty scent of fire, mixed with sweat and dust, filled Logan's nostrils. He inhaled deeply, listening go the Captain's heavy intakes of breath before placing one hand on the ornament in front of him, effectively trapping him.

„It is very... unwise to turn your back to the enemy." Logan titled his hand, applying more pressure on Ashym's neck. He knew exactly how far he could go until he seriously injured the Captain, knew exactly how much force it would take to break the delicate skin or forcefully cut the man's throat. It would be a merciful death compared to what awaited him with the Charr.

Do not meddle with the past.

His heart was drumming loudly in his ears. Ashym jerked backward at the increasing pressure. Logan followed up the movement with his sword, forcing the Ascalonian even closer, until his back was pressed against Logan's chest.

His head was painfully bent backward, almost resting on Logan's shoulder and a closer look told him that the Captain had closed his eyes. His neck exposed to Logan's mercy, the man's breath was surprisingly unstable. The heat that ebbed from his body with the sheer force of an inferno began to ebb into Logan's mind, aiming to slowly erase all radical and conscious thought. Logan's heart jolted and he found himself swallowing hard.

„What do you say, Captain?" he whispered into the man's ear, finding his voice coarse and rough. If he would just answer, Logan could pull away and clear his mind. The seconds ticked away and he felt himself impatient for a response.

Logan's armor had become almost unbearably hot and uncomfortably tight, as if the fire that undoubtedly burned underneath Ashym's skin had risen the temperature in the courtyard. Involuntarily, Logan's gaze drifted back to the exposed piece of redened, heated skin on Ashym's neck.

He called himself to order at the impossible, inappropriate suggestions that filled his head. He did not belong here. The Captain was a dead man walking from the past, and he was a mercenary from the future. It was merely a surreal fantasy. Although normally, he told himself, those involved the Queen and not barely-of-age boys.

„I don't even know your name." Ashym mumbled. His tone was troubled, but not without the hint of excitement and curiousity.

„Captain Thackeray?" a tiny voice sounded in his head.

He pushed away the uproar of an anger at the appearance of Dessa. Gratefully, he sighed silently, there was no need for this new test of his self control. If it had not improved in the last few months after Destiny's Edge and his betrayal, he was glad that the Asura dragged him out of it.

Logan took a deep breath and slowly withdraw his blade from Ashym's neck. The man would not remember after all once he had been extracted from this fractal.

„My name is Logan Thackeray." he said softly, sliding the sword back into it's hilt. „And I hope this was a lesson to you."

Just when Ashym turned around, Logan felt the first pulls of the extraction. Ashym's eyes slowly darkened and a distinct blankness appeared in his expression as their encounter was erased from his memory.

For a split second Logan's body jerked forward as if trying to escape the timewarp, but instead he straightened his shoulders to land on the observation station with dignity.


	4. Chapter 3

„Soldier." a cool, female voice reached Logan's ear as soon as he had landed. Before he could find out where he was, his view fell onto a young woman who was crouched on the ground before her, her hands busily moving. Although he had just appeared out of thin air, she did not seem taken aback by it. In fact, Logan was sure that she did not even remember his sudden appearance.

Her features were sharp but not ugly, her nose was straight and long, blonde hair cascaded down her small shoulders beautifully. Logan assumed her to be several years younger them himself. Although she must have realized the large age gap, her tone of voice did not betray any sort of respect. Logan thought that she probably enjoyed a high position in the Ascalonian ranks.

„Mylady." he said stupidly. He had not met this woman before.

„Siegemaster." she snapped impatiently, and Logan's eyes dropped onto her busy hands. Her magic worked its way through the small cart in front of her. Logan had seen them before, arrow carts that automatically shot rows of arrows into the enemy. No doubt she was fixing them to reinforce the city's walls. It could not be long now, Logan thought as he approached her.

„I need you to deliver a message for me. I have not the time to leave the garrison or find someone else to fulfill this task. Do you have the time?"

Do not meddle with the past. Surely a simple message would not result in anything tragic.

„What message should I deliver? And to whom?"

The Siegemaster nodded in approval, „Find Captain Ashym. Tell him that the eastern corridor into the courtyard is secured. Automated carts have been positioned and he may send in troops for defense."

Logan tried to ignore the tiny jolt of his heart at the mentioning of the fiery Ascalonian Captain and nodded. Before he had become Seraph Captain, there had often been times in which he had had to deliver messages and run errands.

He realized that he did not even know who this woman was.

„From who shall I say is this message?" he asked and was promptly grazed with a sour look as if he had just lifted up her skirt.

„You must be from the Royal Ascalonian Guard." she said, „They are often very ignorant of everything else around them."

As he did not reply, her eyes narrowed, „Of course you are from the royal guard. I have not seen your face here before at all. Dulfy, I am Captain Ashym's subordinate officer, tasked with guarding the pre-entrance to the district. Now run along."

Just like old times, Logan thought as he made his way past the gate behind her and into the courtyard. Dulfy had made him feel twenty one again, the age at which he had joined the Seraph.

He had never heard of a Siegemaster Dulfy before, and the least he knew about her, the less painful the knowledge of her tormented soul being bound to this place would be. For the second time in days he wished that someone else was the Seraph Captain, that someone else had fought the dragon in Destiny's Edge, that someone else was Logan Thackeray.

He found Ashym in the heart of the district, in front of the ornament of Dwayna. It stood tall above its surroundings, almost radiating with a divine light. It embraced the Captain with a blue-ish glow that so contrasted with his armor and red hair.

Ashym was holding his greatsword in front of him, balancing it at the tip of his fingers only. His magic engulfed the blade in the form of ferocious, hungry flames that danced along its edges. Sparks flew from it the more fiercely he cut through the moist air, until it was entirely engulfed in flame, burning with the brightest colours.

Slash after slash, a rain of fire and flame dropped onto the ground where dry yellow grass caught fire and burnt down before curls of black smoke emerged from its ashes. The familiar scent of flame crossed Logan's nose as he approached the man.

„Captain Ashym." Logan said softly.

Another slash whirled hot white flames over the hilt of the sword, but they grazed Ashym's hand without burning him. A quick stab forward thrust a giant creature of flame into the air, where it burst into an explosion and dissolved as smoke. Slowly, Ashym lowered the blade and turned on the spot.

His chest was heaving and his lips were parted slightly. His red hair that so resembled flames fell loosely around his head. As if in recognition, ocean blue eyes narrowed found Logan's.

„Captain?" It was impossible that Ashym should remember him, for the extraction from the mist erased every memory anyone ever had of him. In that moment, it seemed like an almost regrettable fact.

There was a pause in which Ashym looked at him carefully, before his shoulder relaxed and he lifted his blade to look at the edges. Seemingly, he had come to the conclusion that he had mistaken Logan for someone else.

„You appear to be very brave, Ascalonian." Ashym said as he inspected the clean metal. There was not so much as a black smudge of the vanished flames left.

Momentarily taken aback, Logan fell silent. He was anything but brave. On short notice and without thinking he had turned his back to the last battle he had fought, had deserted his friends and ran when they needed him most. He was a coward who ran to hide behind a woman in the most important hours of battle.

Love made people do stupid things, he had tried to reassure himself, and he had seen his mistake. She was unattainable, no matter how hard he tried, and now he could do nothing but beg for forgiveness from his friends.

„I wonder if that is modesty or silent agreement..." with a clunk, the sword sunk back into Captain Ashym's belt. Slowly, he walked over to where Logan was standing.

„There is no bravery in what I have done." their eyes met.

„Often, we act without thinking." Ashym replied serenely, „There is no shame in error."

Too long, Logan had supressed all those feelings and the humiliation he felt at having deserted his friends. He had tried to think of it in any other way, but the feeling that he had been disloyal, that he had deserted them in need, filled him with disgust.

„There is shame in running away." he whispered without thinking.

„You will not run again." Ashym had moved so quickly that Logan's eyes almost missed the movement. Ashym's sword pointed right at his chest, at the weak spot of his armor, a small crest where two pieces had been fused together.

The blue of the Captain's eyes was hazy, dangerous, „For Ascalon, you and me, we shall give our lives to save the homeland, the King and Prince Rurik." he hissed fiercely. With narrowed eyes the Captain watched as Logan tried to find the right words, but he did not need him to reply.

„What is your name, Ascalonian?"

„Logan Thackeray."


	5. Chapter 5

Logan admired the spirit, the will and the determination that Captain Ashym showed at the face of the enemy. The last battle had come even closer, it was almost tangible in the air. The defense of the city had been fully built up, but Logan knew that it would not be enough when the Charr came running.

He tried to find solace in the thought that in some way, the Charr would be overthrown with the humans alike. The King sacrificing the men and women who would give their lives for him voluntarily in one lethal strike. In his greed, he would not even let them rest in piece but pay them back for their loyalty with neverending pain and rage. Forced and chained to defend Ascalon into all eternity, forgetting who they are and were, seeing every living soul as their enemy.

With disgust, Logan realized that he thought that it might even fit some of them, this eternal task. He wondered if they would embrace this destiny, if they knew it was coming for them. He could not imagine anyone would wish to suffer endlessly, always fighting everyone who came close to the ruins.

Maybe some would cheer at the opportunity that not even death could hold them from fighting the approaching enemy. Maybe they would find peace in knowing that their city would never be taken, that the Charr would never be able to claim their land.

Captain Ashym was walking up the western corridor and into the empty courtyard in which's middle there was an old Ascalonian ornament, surrounded by red leafed ash trees. A statue showing an old fashioned version of Dwayna, the Goddess of life and air. It was made of white marble, as was the platform Captain Ashym came to a halt on.

He took no notice of Logan as he kneeled down in front of the divine figure with closed eyes, the wind brushing through his fiery red hair. Briefly, Logan wondered what it would be like to touch it. He imagined it raw and angry like flame, or damp when the man's helmet allowed no aspiration.

Unconsciously, he edged closer to the Ascalonian, observing as his hands balled into fists on the ground. It was a time in which the Gods still sometimes answered humans, but they could do nothing to assist here in Ascalon. Could it be that even they were bound by laws, or that they could not know yet the future? Logan had never seen the Gods, or talked to them. In his time, neither of them showed themselves. Yet, he was faithful that they were somewhere, waiting and watching over them as they fought Zhaitan and his brothers.

There was no sound except for the small breeze that played with the leafes in the crowns of the trees. It was almost the silence before the storm, the dawn of something ferocious coming their way.

As Logan closed the distance between them, he noticed that Captain Ashym's hands and arms were covered in burn marks and small cuts. He wondered if it had been the Charr or the excessive training that had inflicted them.

„Captain Ashym, let me have a look at that." Logan indicated the long gashes and irritated inflamation marks on the man's skin. Ashym halted and slowly raised to his full height which was still about a foot shorter than Logan himself.

„You do not look like a monk." he said.

„I am not, but I did my homework when it comes to healing." Logan smiled at Ashym's suspiciously raised eyebrows. He had intended to fit in properly, speak very few words to not give away that he was not from here, but at times his kindness and caring nature got the better of him.

„You must be from a far place then. But a healer is a healer. I cannot allow anything to impair my ability to fight when the beasts come running at the city gates." he stretched out his violated hands toward Logan.

Ashym's skin was warm, almost hot. As if, underneath, liquid lava was pulsing through his veins instead of blood. Logan focused on the most basic healing spells that he had learned not to attract too much attention to his abilities. Together they watched as a long gash slowly closed into an even stretch of pale skin.

„Do you think it is possible to resurrect with magic?" Ashym asked suddenly and there was a hint of darkness in his voice. Logan almost recoiled and had to focus all of his willpower into healing the man's injuries. He could not possibly have told the Ascalonian Captain that just in a few days he would be one spirit haunting Tyria. Or that in about a hundred and fifty years later, a giant dragon would raise giant armies of long forgotten people. He wondered if Dessa was watching, or if the knowledge could possibly harm the Captain.

„You should think about the upcoming battle." Logan replied gravely.

„I know that." Ashym pulled back his hand as if he had been stung, „Do you think it is not my priority to defend Ascalon from the beasts?"

„Of course it is." Logan met his eyes. „Now let me finish that."

Ashym threw him a sour look, folding his arms, „It does not hurt."

„Now it does not." Logan replied, „And what about tomorrow when after you've fought a hundred of Charr you cannot hold your blade anymore?"

The argument seemed to make sense to Ashym, but he continued to angrily stare at Logan.

„Who are you then, healer?" he asked. His eyes darted across Logan's face as if he was searching for something. Logan had not hoped to be remembered when delivering Dulfy's message. He knew that the extraction forced memory of him out of anyone he came in touch with. Yet, he found it unsettling that the Captain looked at him without recognition.

„Do you believe the Gods are with us in this battle?" Captain Ashym asked.

„Of course." Logan replied.

„We will defeat the oncoming army, and my sword will slay their leader to rid Ascalon of their presence forever." he said solemnly and again, Logan could not but admire the determination in his voice. „Those beasts will not take me alive. Balthazar will give me the strength to withhold their attacks."

How could he possibly tell the energetic young Captain that the Charr would fall, but so would Ascalon? Silently, he held out his hands and conjured the healing light that he had used much too often.

„I am scared sometimes, and sometimes I fail. But today, Dwayna must have sent me here to assist you, Captain Ashym."

„You speak such reasonable words, Logan Thackeray." Ashym said silently, „I often don't think. But I cannot think, I have to protect Ascalon, we must win. I have those nightmares, Logan Thackeray."he clenched his teeth and Logan could hear the sound over the soft humming of the healing magic that rang in his ears.

„Nightmares?"

„Of the future. I see Ascalon burning at night." he paused as if the thought was filling him with great pain, and his voice was almost quiet as he spoke again, „Dark Creatures overrunning the world in the wake of a giant beast, armies raising from the earth."

Taken aback, Logan lost his concentration. Immdiately his magic ceased to flow and hastily he focused back on the injuries. Ashym hadn't noticed his confusion, his eyes were narrowed as if he was looking at a point in the far distance, but when Logan threw a look over his shoulder there was nothing. Something was not right with this fractal, he thought. Ashym had looked at him too long, too closely, but also their minds seemed to communicate.

Softly, he rubbed his fingers over Ashym's wrist, where he could clearly fill the other man's pulse. It was a steady, quick pace that pumped pure life through his veins and arteries. Suddenly he hoped that Dessa was not watching, because she would be able to immediately tell what he was thinking. She had not yet protested about him interfering with the past, maybe she was busy.

„Yes, you have to protect Ascalon." to his surprise, his voice was coarse, almost a whisper.

As he looked up, the man's face had flushed a bright red that almost challenged his hair and he avoided looking into Logan's eyes. The colour suited him. Fascinatedly, Logan observed it highlighting tiny dots on Ashym's nose and cheeks.

Somewhere on the square, one of the arrow carts clicked silently but neither of them took any notice. As Ashym's lips curved into a smile, the display of his youth was immediately intensified and Logan swallowed hard at the thought that he would not live to see another year. He found it quite hard to believe that anyone would be able to put out this man's light, but then, he had worked with the Charr before.

„Thackeray, what exactly are you doing?" Dessa's voice whispered in his ear.

The surroundings began to fade, merge into a haze of brisk red and shades of brown and Logan jolted upward, his fingers twisting around Ashym's wrists as he shoved the man backward against the likeness of Dwayna. Ashym looked at him with confusion and he barely had time for reassurance before he felt the familiar tugging on his head and shoulders.

„No time." he whispered softly before he pushed his lips onto Ashym's more forcefully than he had intended. Because hr would not remember when they met again.

He landed roughly on his palms and bruised his knees as he hit the ground of the observatorium. The warmth of Ashym's hands and lips was gone in a heartbeat, but Logan could still remember where his fingers had connected with the Captain's. Which was more than could be said, no doubt, for the other man. Dessa's feet had appeared in front of his face but he did not look up to see her scowl.

„Have I not told you not to meddle with the past!" she said.

„Hundreds of times." Logan mumbled silently but she had heard. „But he wont remember."

„I find myself unable to work with you Captain Thackeray if you do not learn to control your... ugh..." she struggled to find the right word, „Your... urges!"

„He wont remember!" Logan argued.

Dessa growled, „His inability to recall memories of you is not a reason to abuse my technology and meddle..."

„It wont happen again." Logan snarled. He wasn't sure when he had felt so angry, so disappointed, so desperate the last time. Probably when the Queen had been endangered by various creatures summoned by Zhaitan and led by a crazed Seraph soldier. But this was different, because whatever happened, the Ascalonian Captain would forget him as soon as he was extracted back into this world.

He should tell Dessa all about Ashym's dreams, and the fact that he seemed to believe that they were the true future. Or that he possibly knew that what he saw was the future, because it was wrong and something was going terribly wrong with the fractals. Logan had not noticed it first, but now that he thought about it, Ashym had clearly been searching for something in his face. As if he knew him, as if he was waiting for the recognition to come but it never came.

But what if he told Dessa? Would she forbid him to go back there to see the young Captain? Would she employ someone else in his stead? Someone who would not care about the Ascalonian, someone who would watch him die without blinking even once. Someone like Rytlock, who would be eager to thrust his sword into Ashym's chest first. Logan pressed his fists into the hard ground of the observatorium. He was clearly not thinking straight, because Rytlock as a Charr might be killed there himself. It was his duty to report to Dessa what he had seen, it was his duty not to go back to the fractal, not to see Ashym again, because it clearly distracted him from the mission.

Yet, he found himself unable to speak those words that would cut him off from the fractal forever.


	6. Some Feedback

If only someone would like to tell me what they think about this. I'm very fond of this story, and making a great effort with it, but unwilling to continue posting if I am the only one who enjoys it anyhow... :(

If anyone wants to keep reading this, be so kind to drop me a note, else I'll take it off my list. It has 15 pages by now, and I shall search for an audience who likes it if no one does here.

Phil


	7. Chapter 6

Logan walked in the shadow of the giant wall surrounding the City of Ascalon. It had crumbled at some points, rebuilt over time, an indication of how old it actually was. In the distance, he could see a figure sitting crouched under an Ash tree. It was as if he had begun to intentionally seek the young Captain's presence, as if he delayed his original plan so he could relive this moment more often, see Ashym more often.

From somewhere far behind him, Logan meant to hear sounds of battle, the destructive force of the Charr legions marching over the wasteland. He knew it was just hisimagination, an illusion that his brain had spun in the face of Ascalon's imdending fall. The end was approaching drastically fast, there was no holding it.

He could sense the fear of the Ascalonian soldiers, taste the ferocity with which they exercised their weapons and spoke about tactical plans to hold off and defeat the horde of Charr coming their way. The tension in the air was almost tangible.

The figure underneath the tree had not moved, his arm draped over his eyes to shield them from the sun he looked almost sad. A red helmet was lying on the ground beside him. Logan thought he knew exactly who it belonged to and for a split second cursed the curious interest and his unruly desire to see the man.

„Captain Ashym?" Logan approached silently. The man did not move and Logan's heart twisted, fear suddenly bubbling in his stomach like acid. Had he been poisoned? Was he dead?

Gradually, Ashym raised his head, but he looked straight through Logan as if he had never seen him before. Seconds passed in which the guardian attempted to swallow the tight knot that had built in his throat. Initially, he had thought it would not matter whether Ashym remembered. He had known from the beginning how it would be, that Ashym would have forgotten again who he was, but yet he felt himself rendered unable to shake an uneasy feeling.

„Who are you, Ascalonian?" Ashym's eyes were hazy with anger as he rose and straightened his shoulders. More than ever, he was reminiscent of a young Seraph Soldier who had been found slacking during his exercise.

„My name is Logan Thackeray." Logan repeated patiently, ignoring the sharp edge stabbing into his heart.

Ashym regarded him with a burning, inquiring look. Slowly, his plate-covered hand moved up to his lips and his eyes narrowed as if he was in deep thought. For the tiniest second Logan prayed that the Ascalonian Captain would recognize the name.

„Are you a member of the royal guard? I have never heard of you before Logan Thackeray." Ashym said then and Logan's shoulders dropped. His voice had changed, and his hand slid to his sword as if he was threatened. It pained Logan to see the Ascalonian unsettled and uneasy because of his presence.

„I know your name." Ashym suddenly said.

Loga's lips curved into a mirthless grimace as he tried his best not to scream in frustration. Dessa had promised that his presence would be forgotten as soon as he left, and it was impossible that Ashym should remember. He almost laughed in despair when he recognized the error he had made believeing for a moment that there was hope. Naturally Ashym would know the name Thackeray, considering that his great grandparents Gwen and Keiran were a force to be recognized with.

„It is a common name, in these times." he replied, „I have family in Ebonhawke."

Ashym took a step back, his confusion almost tangible. The deep blue of his eyes turned into gray as he stared at Logan as if he was a ghost. His fingers curved around the hilt of his sword. Just then Logan noticed the slight quiver in the young man's digits, ever so slightly his hand seemed to tremble.

„I have never been to Ebonhawke." Logan did not miss the dangerous note that his voice had taken.

„Then you must mista..."

„I am not mistaken, Logan Thackeray!" the Captain almost shouted. His knuckles had gone white where his fingers clung to his sword. „I'm not. I have seen you before, I know who you are."

„But that's impossible." Logan replied before he could stop himself. He heard Dessa gasp inside of his head.

He had to stay calm, Ashym was clearly mistaking him for someone. Maybe even someone he had gotten close to at some point, but Logan did not want to think about that. If he caused an internal fight now, it was possible he could change history, and then all hell would break loose.

Do not meddle with the past.

„I mean... I just arrived from Ebonhawke." Logan corrected himself hastily. He had never been a good liar and Ashym seemed to look right through him. In a split second he had drawn his sword, its sharp end pointing toward Logan's throat.

„All those nightmares..." Ashym said calmly, „I see myself dying every day... you... you feel like them."

Ashym's eyes had gone hazy, dull like the edge of a used blade.

„Tell me about them." Logan said calmly. He had heard of them before, but he could not bear the angry and desperate eyes fixed upon his that stared at him with so much hatred. It was worse than the disappointed face of Eir and more painful than the sharpeness of Zojja's tongue.

„The statue of Dwayna... There's Charr all around me." hesitantly, Ashym began to speak, his weapon like a shield in front of him, „The city is burning. I'm on a platform, they..." his voice broke and he looked down the shining blade in front of him that was still primed against Logan's throat. „I am die, failing. I fail to protect my home."

Logan did not speak as Ashym paused. Was he, in the same way as Logan, reliving the past? Could it be that he knew what was going to happen to him, or that it had already happened and he was stuck in the mists, forced to relive the same event every night? For the first time, Logan wondered if their experiments were harmful even if they did not change the past. Was there something that Dessa had overlooked? Something vital to this world that was not a part of her equations?

„Who... What are you Logan Thackeray? It feels like I know you, have seen you, but I have not spoken to you at any time in my memory." Ashym said.

„I can't... can't tell you." Logan's gritt his teeth. Why could he not? Ashym would be dead soon, again.

„Will I die, Logan Thackeray?" Ashym asked, „Will I die in battle? Will Ascalon fall like I see it fall every night?" Ashym lowered his sword.

„Your brain activity is drastically increasing, Logan. It's almost reaching critical level! I'm pulling you out now!" Dessa warned in his head.

„No!" Logan shouted. Ashym jolted backward at once. The familiar feeling of being pulled out of the fractal overtook Logan's body. He watched as Ashym stared at him with his eyes wide opened, and as he dissolved into nothing, the Captain's eyes became unfocused.


End file.
